


In The Line of Duty

by katbear



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-09
Updated: 2001-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/pseuds/katbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon goes on a special mission</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Line of Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Archive: MA, AO3  
> Category: Response to first line challenge from way back in July 2000. PARODY/humor  
> Rating: G  
> Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi (mostly Qui-Gon)  
> Feedback: Appreciated.  
> Thanks: To the beta readers who encouraged me to post (Jennifer, boots). All mistakes are my own.  
> Warnings: None.  
> Spoilers: None, pre-TPM, pre-slash. Obi-Wan is fifteen.  
> Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, I'm just playing with them.  
> Author's Comment: This is rather different from anything else I’ve done and was one of those stories where pieces came to me in little dribs and drabs over several months until finally one weekend this whiny little voice in my head grabbed hold and said “finish the damned thing, already”. So I did.

Nursing a rapidly escalating headache, Qui-Gon realized he'd forgotten just how much he disliked teenagers, especially in large groups.

Yoda was definitely going to hear about this when they got back to Coruscant, he promised himself grimly.

***************** ***************

The second day back from their last mission had started very well. It was a beautiful spring morning on Coruscant and Qui-Gon had gotten his Padawan out of bed before first light so they could meditate in the First Bloom Garden. This was an exceptionally beautiful garden which had been sown with numerous different plants that each bloomed at a different time of the year so that there were newly blossoming flowers almost every day of the year. This morning there was an exquisite stand of Layshonya plants just coming into their full flower; the tall, elegant stems with light green leaves each sported a wide-petaled flower of deep blue with white stripes. These were particularly beautiful at first light; as the sun hit each plant the flower gave the appearance of closed praying hands which opened to the warm sun as if offering up a treasure within. The morning was clear with a touch of crispness lingering from the night and the first rays of the sun were just visible over the garden wall. Qui-Gon could feel that the Living Force was particularly vibrant at this time and place so he and his Padawan had brought their meditation mats to the garden to take advantage of this opportunity. Unfortunately, the Master’s good mood was a little spoiled by the fact that he had had to almost literally drag his fifteen year old apprentice out of bed for the occasion and said apprentice was now kneeling rather bleary-eyed on his mat grumbling under his breath about ‘stupid flowers’ and ‘sadistic Masters’. Qui-Gon was determined to help his Padawan learn to appreciate the Living Force whether he wanted to or not, so he sent a sharp nudge over their training bond which quieted the more obvious mutterings and then began the shared meditation. Obi-Wan settled down and joined the meditation but it wasn’t long before a huge yawn split the young man’s face and broke his concentration. He looked at his Master from the corner of one eye, but seeing no reprieve there he sighed and started over. Just as it seemed the meditation was going well, the pair was distracted by a loud rumbling emanating from Obi-Wan’s stomach. Grinning sheepishly at his irritated master, he shrugged as if to say ‘what can I do’ and started over again. Once more the meditation seemed to be going smoothly when Qui-Gon became aware that the meditation’s song had gone from duet to solo. He opened his eyes and stared in disbelief at his Padawan who was sitting upright in the meditation posture but was sound asleep, his mouth hanging open slightly and a small trail of spittle forming at one corner. Qui-Gon started to open his own mouth but nothing came out, so he settled for shaking his head and sighing. By now his earlier good mood had vanished altogether, so he stood up and disgustedly shook the wet dew from his mat. For a moment, he actually considered leaving the sleeping youth but he knew that Obi-Wan had classes that morning. His conscience getting the better of him, he shook the apprentice’s shoulder until he saw signs of life return, then left the garden.

Checking his messages after breakfast, Qui-Gon found a summons to a meeting of the Padawan Training Committee. Arriving at the informal conference room at the appointed time, Qui-Gon found himself in the company of not just the committee members but also several other Masters and Knights who, like himself, were not members. It was not unusual to see Council Member Adi Gallia as she chaired this particular group, but he was a bit surprised to note that Master Yoda was also there, perched on a low bench. After making an appropriate greeting to his former Master, Qui-Gon found a comfortable chair among the various types of seats scattered in a loose circle around the room and waited.

“Let the meeting come to order,” announced Master Gallia, looking around the room to ensure she had everyone’s attention. “I have called this meeting to discuss the upcoming Junior Padawan Field Trip to Mayznor. As many of you know, this is an annual event to provide both a cultural growth experience and an opportunity to enhance exposure to the Living Force for a group of our 13 to 15 year old Padawans. It is a three day trip there, the first two days on Mayznor will be spent in the capital city touring museums and craft exhibits, and there will be five days in the southern continent’s wilderness preserve before returning to Coruscant. The trip leader will be Master Hathay. I will let her explain more of the details.” At this point Adi gestured for a tall, willowy female Master with brown skin, black hair and bright green eyes to take the floor.

Although not usually given to precognition, Qui-Gon was starting to get a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling which was rapidly turning to queasiness as he realized that most of the other Masters in the room who were not committee members also had Padawans in that aforementioned 13 to 15 year age range. The day’s downhill trend that had started after such a promising wakening seemed to be accelerating. He let loose a silent prayer to the Force that this wasn’t going to be what he thought it might be.

Master Hathay rose gracefully and smiled, revealing an unexpectedly formidable set of fangs which tended to cause a bit of a hiss in her Standard. “Good morning, fellow beingss. This is a very special trip we have coming up and a wonderful opportunity for our Junior Padawansss. I would like to welcome you to our team and hope everyone is as exsssited about this event as I am.”

Her gushing enthusiasm was rather lost on the group as the Masters cast covert glances and grimaces at each other as soon as the word ‘team’ was mentioned. Two young Knights at the back of the room seemed happily oblivious but the tall older female Knight who was normally assigned to work with the Initiates smiled grimly as she casually moved to block the exit, standing in front of the door with arms crossed. Qui-Gon noted the large size and razor sharp claws of the reptilian door guardian and sighed; this was not looking good at all.

“We will, of course, have some caretakersss and ssupport sstaff from the Padawan Training Program but, in addition, each of you has been very sspecially chosen to come along on this trip. Each of the four Massterss here hass a Padawan in the required age range who will be going on the trip. In addition, each of you hass a special contribution to make, either in your expertisse with cultural asspectss, in your connection with the Living Force or your work in woodcraft. You will be leading classses, tours and shared meditationss with various groups of Padawanss while we are on Mayznor. Thiss will be a thrilling opportunity to interact with some of our young people and share your wisssdom and insightsss with them.” The Master smiled widely, not totally unaware of the effect of the now fully visible fangs on her audience.

A low groan could almost be discerned emanating from the Masters.

“Uh, just *how many* Padawans are going on this trip?” tentatively asked Master Bolknen, a dark blue-skinned humanoid.

“At this time we have identified forty-eight youngsters who are scheduled to participate.”

This time an audible collective gasp went up from the Masters.

“Forty-eight! NOOOOOOO, no, no, no, you’re not getting me out there with forty-eight of those little savages …” Master Bolknen started to rise and bolt for the door, but the Knight standing guard flexed her claws and opened her jaws to reveal a gleaming set of fangs even more imposing than Master Hathay’s. Looking desperately around, the now pale blue Master quickly realized he would get no sympathy from his peers and collapsed weakly back into his chair, rocking and moaning softly to himself.

By now the queasy feeling in Qui-Gon’s gut was rapidly turning into full blown nausea and panic as he began desperately to try to determine if there was any way to get out of this fix.

“Excuse me, Masters,” ventured one of the young Knights respectfully, a pretty felinoid with fluffy gray fur and a long tail neatly wrapped around her feet. “They’re just Padawans. I don’t quite see what all the fuss is about. I used to enjoy the field trips when I was a Padawan.” She smiled tentatively.

The poor Knight visibly withered under the concentrated glare of four highly pissed off Masters.

“Young Knight, *one* Padawan is ‘just a Padawan’ and three of *them* is what lost me my hair,” spit out Master Steng between clenched teeth as he gestured at his totally bald crown . “A *group* of Padawans, however, especially young teenagers with Force abilities they are still learning about, are *not* ‘just Padawans’. They become an entity unlike any other in the Galaxy, a Sith-spawned pack of giggling, screaming, hormone-driven, rapacious monsters that attract trouble like steel filings to a magnet.” The other Masters nodded vehemently in agreement. Master Steng, a short, stocky, fair-skinned humanoid, had turned quite red, and seemed about to launch into a lengthy diatribe when Master Hathay interrupted.

“Now, now, gentlebeingss, let us not be too hassty. Thesse young people are the future of the Order, and it iss our duty to help them,” the Master said sternly.

Qui-Gon sensed an opening and leapt in with both feet. “Master Hathay is quite right,” Qui-Gon interjected with his best diplomatic facade. “These field trips *are* very important for our Padawans’ education.” Turning his best number one smile on the Master, he continued smoothly. “Since it is so important, it is essential that the very best instructors be provided for such an event. I believe between us we can recommend several Masters who are *clearly* more suited for this particular task than those of us who merely have the accidental recommendation of having a Padawan of the correct age.” His fellow Masters began to perk up as Qui-Gon assumed conciliatory posture number three, then waved his hands and soothingly continued. “Now then, if we can discuss this in a calm, rational, adult manner, I am certain we can all come to a satisfactory ... “

THWACK!

Yoda had crept up unnoticed and delivered a stinging blow with his stick across the shins of his former Padawan. The green Master now stood glaring up at his student.

“Qui-Gon Jinn, ashamed I am of my former Padawan. Great honor it is to be specially chosen for this task but wiggling like glankfish on hook you are to get out of it. Wave your hand at *me* you had better not try!”

“But Master Yoda, there really are better people for this job …” Qui-Gon could hear the whine start to creep into his voice but couldn’t stop himself.

Another resounding THWACK! Qui-Gon knew from bitter experience that if he tried to dodge or duck then Yoda’s lecture would be twice as long so he sat in relatively stoic silence and took the blow with only a single yelp.

“Enough! Avoided field trips you have managed for over three years but not this time. Gifted in Living Force you are and teach on this field trip you *will*.”

Master Bolknen looked over at Qui-Gon and raised an eyebrow. “Three years?!” he mouthed silently and gave a furtive thumbs-up of admiration.

“Now wait a minute, Master Yoda, there truly were good reasons I wasn’t available. Please, can’t we discuss this …”

Yoda thwacked him again to stop the whining and rested the tip of his stick on Qui-Gon’s chest. “Three years of ‘mysterious illnesses’ and ‘unexpectedly extended missions’ have I put up with. But last time claiming you missed ship back to Coruscant because Padawan overslept is too much, Master Jinn. Hmmph, even poor Obi-Wan better excuse could have found.“

Qui-Gon had turned red and was squirming in his chair. “But, Masteerrer…”

Yoda tapped the stick on Qui-Gon’s chest for emphasis “Pathetic excuses I will have no more of. Specially chosen for this trip you were, specially chosen by me, and go you will.”

Recognizing when he was defeated and wishing to save his throbbing shins from further abuse, Qui-Gon slumped in his chair with a dispirited, “Yes, Master.”

The ceiling suddenly became an object of great fascination as the senior Council member glared at each of the other Masters in turn. Sensing no further rebellion in the ranks, just for good measure Yoda gave one more ‘hmpph’ and thwack to the wincing Qui-Gon before waving his stick in the general direction of the now beaming Master Hathay and trundling back to his seat.

Under the unwavering combined gazes of Master Yoda and the grinning door guard, the rest of the meeting passed in glum silence from the Masters while the two Knights were now wondering just what the Sith they had gotten themselves into.

 

* * ********************* *******************

The rest of the six days that remained before the field trip was scheduled to leave for Mayznor seemed to fly by. The Order had chartered a large ship for the trip so while they were on Mayznor everyone would stay aboard ship until they went to the wilderness preserve, but the prospect of two days of museum hopping and five days of camping out with a group of Padawans was a daunting one. Qui-Gon’s Padawan was very excited when he found out that he and most of his friends would be going on the trip but the four Masters had all the enthusiasm of someone invited to write their own eulogy before they were executed. There were several meetings with Master Hathay’s team to set up a schedule, assign Padawans to smaller groups for the various activities and divvy out the escort and training duties. Everyone would be expected to help the training staff with supervision every day but each was also assigned specific duties for this trip.

It turned out that the two Knights did have special expertise to contribute. Knight Kayshott, the gray soft-spoken felinoid, had an extensive background in art and cultural history; she would be leading several of the main museum tours and would assist with some of the woodcraft and meditation classes. Knight V’kor, a pale green amphibious reptilian with a bright red crest and yellow eyes, did not have any special academic background but had a surprisingly deft touch with young Jedi. He was being considered to head up a Padawan training program at a small Temple and this trip was a trial run of sorts; he would assist with various tours and water classes but would also have scheduling and administrative duties for the group as well as being part of the advance support team. Of the four Masters, Qui-Gon was considered to have the best connection with the Living Force and was assigned several sessions of teaching and leading meditation exercises as his primary contribution in addition to assisting with survival classes. Master Bolknen, once he became resigned to the inevitability of his participation, also turned out to have a surprisingly deep understanding of the Living Force and so was also assigned several sessions of meditation lessons. Master Steng turned out to be a jack-of-all-trades who filled in wherever needed. The final member of their group, a taciturn female Zabrakian named Jevana, had an extensive background in woodcraft and survival tactics and was assigned as primary instructor in those topics.

The final assignments were to create teams of six Padawans who would stay together for the duration of the trip, although more than one team might attend a given tour or class. Each team would bunk together on the ship and would share the same tent on the campout so the trainers attempted to make the teams somewhat compatible; this resulted in several of the teams being all male or all female. With forty-eight Padawans, that meant eight teams of six. In addition to some of the training team staff members, each of the Masters and Knight Kayshott was assigned a specific group for supervisory purposes but Masters were not allowed to have a team which included their own Padawan. Obi-Wan ended up with several of his friends on Team One, which was one of the all male teams, and his friend Bant ended up on Team Two. The all male teams were notoriously more rambunctious than the others so none of the eight team supervisors was willing to volunteer to take them. They decided to draw lots to see who got which team, but none of the Masters trusted each other not to try to skew the lots so they asked the ever bright and disgustingly cheery Master Hathay to do the honors, since by now she was equally detested by all of the Masters. Qui-Gon grimaced when he drew an all male mostly humanoid group, Team Seven, as did Master Steng. When Knight Kayshott drew Team One, he and Steng started to commiserate with her. Remembering in time, however, that she had actually volunteered for this trip, Masters Jinn and Steng looked at her, looked at each other, looked back at her, and in unison shook their heads and said “naaaah”.

 

* * * * * * * * * ************** **************

The day of departure dawned gray and dreary. The support and teaching personnel reported to their ship early to stow their gear and prepare to receive the Padawans, which for the four Masters meant dragging themselves and their Padawans out of bed before first light, trying to force food into the excited Padawans and then keeping them occupied until everyone else showed up. Each of the team supervisors was issued a datapadd which had the list of their team members, room numbers and the list of gear each Padawan was supposed to bring. In theory, each Padawan’s Master was supposed to have checked to make sure his or her Padawan had everything, but long experience had taught the trainers that things never went that well.

Having finally foisted his Padawan off on Knight Kayshott, Qui-Gon was standing miserably at his assigned spot in the huge hangar waiting for his group of Padawans to show up. He was sleepy, it was cold in the drafty hangar, and Master Yoda had stopped by to poke him in the shins again as he wandered around chatting up the Padawans and cracking ancient jokes. His mood was definitely not improved by the fact that the first two Masters who showed up with fourteen year old Padawans in tow were yearmates of his and had big grins on their faces despite the early hour. The Masters seemed to be just as excited about getting almost two weeks off as their Padawans were about going on the trip. In retaliation, Qui-Gon made them stay until their Padawans unloaded all of their gear and he checked off every single item on the list. Unfortunately, that meant he had a line of four impatient Masters and anxious Padawans waiting by the time he finished the first two. Opting for expediency over thoroughness, he had all four Padawans dump their gear on the floor and did a quick check for the more vital items like toothbrushes, socks and underwear. After having sent one Padawan running back to his quarters for a spare undertunic and confiscating a rather large amount of unauthorized junk food, Qui-Gon finally let everyone pack up, sent the Masters on their way and took the Padawans to their shared berth to settle in, telling them he would be back in an hour to take them to their first shipboard briefing.

Qui-Gon returned to the quarters he shared with Master Steng and dumped his booty on his bunk. He saw that his roommate was already sorting through a sizable pile of goodies.

“Looks like you got a good haul,” Qui-Gon commented.

“Indeed. I’m glad the staff only restricts the Padawans from bringing snacks. I’m getting a little too old to survive the campouts living off ration bars and wild berries.”

“Yeah, I think they deliberately make those rations bars as tasteless as possible,” Qui-Gon groused. “We’d better lock this stuff up or it won’t make it off the ship. Padawans can be pretty ingenious when they’re hungry.” Qui-Gon suited actions to words, adding his new acquisitions to his personal stash in a double-locked duffle bag inside a metal lockbox.

“Tell me about it,” Steng grimaced. “How’s your bunch look?”

“Not too bad, actually. One fifteen year old, four fourteen-year olds and one first-timer. Looks like he just turned thirteen and his Master was fussing over him like a vandlek with one cub. I think the boy is her first Padawan.”

“She’ll get over that soon enough. I got *two* first-timers,” Steng growled. “I just hope they don’t get put on too much by the older boys or I’m not going to get much sleep this trip.”

“Just be glad it’s not a trip with the sixteen and seventeen year olds. Last time I got stuck with one of those it seemed like we spent half our time rescuing the boys who overdid it trying to impress the girls and the other half scouring the woods looking for the ones who had succeeded.”

“Most of this bunch is a little young for that, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, I suspect a lot of the fifteen year olds are ‘curious’, shall we say.”

“You’re probably right. Oh well, I’m going to collect my team and get them to the briefing room.”

* * * * * * *************** ****************

The rest of that day and the next were relatively uneventful. The training staff had taken over the large cargo bays and turned them into lecture and kata areas which they put to good use during the day, allowing the Padawans to use them for exercise and recreation in the evening. The Masters were starting to feel a little better about the trip when they saw how much physical activity the staff put the Padawans through to help burn off some of the excess energy the young people all seemed to have in such disgusting abundance. Even the first-timers were holding up well. After seeing their charges off to bed the second night, Masters Jinn and Steng peacefully retired.

About midnight the two sleeping men were wakened by a tapping at their door. At a muffled “it’s open”, the door slid open to reveal a rather agitated Knight Kayshott.

“Master Jinn, I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t find the Padawans on Team One.”

Master Steng burrowed deeper under his blankets as his roommate’s disheveled head appeared. “Did you look in their room?”

“Of course, Master Jinn, they’re not there, that’s why I’m here.” She gave him a look that said she clearly had serious doubts about his level of mental competence. “I thought perhaps since Obi-Wan is your Padawan you might have some ideas about where they might be.”

“Are all of the escape pods still on the ship?”

“I think so but what’s that …”

“That means they’re probably still on the ship. Don’t worry about them; they’ll show up for breakfast.” Qui-Gon drew the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. For a moment he thought seriously about just pulling the blanket up over his head and ignoring her but unfortunately he was so tall that particular maneuver usually just left his bare feet sticking out in a most undignified and un-Masterly manner.

“Master Jinn!” she sputtered in righteous indignation. “The boys could be in trouble or hurt!”

Qui-Gon sighed as he tried to decide if he could outwait the agitated young Knight. He could see that her tail was starting to whip around and she was unconsciously flexing her retractable claws. “Oh, all right,” he grumbled as he climbed out of the bunk. Qui-Gon glanced wistfully at his soundly slumbering roommate as he shoved his feet into slippers then drew his robe on over his sleeping clothes as he followed the Knight out the door to head towards the Padawans’ quarters.

The two Jedi stood at the open cabin door and looked at six indisputably empty bunks. Sighing again, Qui-Gon reached out along the training bond with his Padawan. He didn’t sense any distress, quite the opposite in fact, but knew he would not be able to rid himself of the Knight beside him if they didn’t go look for the Padawans. He resigned himself to the inevitable and headed down the corridor toward the Force signature of his apprentice.

Ten minutes later they came out of a lift into a seldom-used corridor which formed the short piece of a T intersection with one of the ship’s long central passageways on the lowest deck. Pausing, they could hear the sounds of giggling and screaming young people as well as an odd whooshing noise coming from the direction of the main corridor. As they got closer to the intersection they could also see a pile of pillows stacked against the wall. Qui-Gon had a nagging feeling that he should really just turn around and go back to bed but he could feel the felinoid Knight’s presence directly behind him, pushing him on. Gesturing for silence, he put on his Stern Master face, then stepped boldly around the corner and walked –

WHHUMMMPP!

\- directly into the path of two young boys on pillows being given a Force-enhanced slide down the long corridor. Qui-Gon received a sudden insight into the purpose of the stack of pillows as both boys slammed into him and all three ended up buried in the pile. Qui-Gon managed to crawl out of the pile but a very hard head had connected directly with his solar plexus, so he ended up on his hands and knees wheezing and huffing, trying to recover his breath. He retained enough presence of mind to snag the two miscreants with a Force hook, dragging them out of the stack of pillows and pinning them to a wall.

“Master Jinn, are you all right?” Knight Kayshott hovered anxiously.

“No … (wheeze) … I’m not … (gasp) …did you … (wheeze) … catch them…”

“I’m afraid not, sir, they had all scattered by the time I got around the corner.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t decide if he was more irritated with the Padawans or the Knight. Finally getting enough air to sit up, he fixed a baleful glare on the two Padawans who were still pinned to the wall, staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes. Shaking off the Knight’s attempt to help him up, Qui-Gon staggered to his feet.

“Bring them,” he gasped out as he headed back to the lift.

“Yes, Master Jinn, but where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

In very short order the motley little group was standing outside the door to Team One’s cabin. Qui-Gon could feel his Padawan’s excitement over the training bond and they could all hear faint giggling through the door. Giving one sharp rap, Qui-Gon entered the cabin. At first glance it appeared that all of the occupants were in bed and asleep. Qui-Gon stalked over to the bunk his Padawan occupied; pulling back the blanket revealed a fully dressed Obi-Wan in a bunk with no pillow. The Master silently gestured for the boy to stand up as he moved toward the next bunk. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to protest but the grim look on his Master’s face evidently dissuaded him. Qui-Gon moved from bunk to bunk, ripping off blankets and giving a Force-swat to those who weren’t quick enough to scramble out of bed. Surveying his little group of mostly dressed but now dispirited Padawans, his eyes lit up as he decided that if he had to be up at this miserable hour, there was definitely one other person who needed to share the misery.

Telling Knight Kayshott to bring up the rear, Qui-Gon quick-marched the group to the trip leader’s cabin. He gleefully pounded on the door for several minutes until it finally opened to reveal a rather bleary-eyed but still determinedly cheerful Master Hathay.

“Yesss, Masster Jinn. Isss there a problem?”

Picking up the two Padawans who had barreled into him by the necks of their tunics, he deposited them firmly in front of Master Hathay. “These two young gentleman were not only out after curfew but also assaulted me. I turn them over to you for discipline.” By this time both boys looked almost ready to cry. “These other young gentlemen were all out after curfew in a restricted area.” Looking straight at Obi-Wan, he continued “unless, of course, there is some other rational explanation why all of you were wearing your clothes in bed.” He sent a warning over the training bond about what would happen if his apprentice even thought about lying.

Obi-Wan shuffled his feet and stared at the floor as he tried to balance the potential consequences of snitching on his bunkmates against the certainty of the consequences of further angering his already pissed off Master. He finally sighed, and, in a very small voice, muttered, “No, Master.”

Satisfied, Qui-Gon turned back to Master Hathay and bowed. “Actually, I was merely assisting Knight Kayshott in locating her missing team. Now that they are found, I shall leave them in her capable paws and let the two of you sort out a suitable solution.” Waving jauntily at the nonplused Master, he rapidly retreated around the corner before either the Master or Knight could think of a reason to make him stay. Rubbing his sore midsection, he headed back to his cabin to get what sleep he could during the remainder of the night.

After the hall sliding episode, the training staff added additional katas and exercise sessions to the schedule, leaving little free time for planning mischief. Aside from a few practical jokes and normal horseplay, by the time they docked on Mayznor the only additional unusual antics were two episodes of ventilation shaft exploration and one late evening session of spin-the-lightsaber by the older fifteen year olds which the unfortunate and rather sensitive Master Bolknen discovered when he went to one of the supply rooms to get some materials for a class. The poor Master’s truly remarkable shade of bright blue was the main topic of conversation at morning meal the next day.

* * * * * * * * ***************** ******************

The first morning on Mayznor was clear and beautiful. Everyone was eager to be off the ship and out in the fresh air. The four Masters led all of the Jedi, students and staff, through a set of simple prebreakfast katas in a park just outside the space field to help get everyone in a good frame of mind for their planetary activities. Knight V’Kor and his advance support group rejoined the team after breakfast when they arrived with the ground transports.

Qui-Gon was rather surprised by how well the first day started. The emphasis during the day was on exploring Mayznor’s history as a Republic member as well as a rather bloody pre-Republic history. The museum itself was a large, very airy building with an exceptional mix of both traditional and interactive holographic exhibits. Knight Kayshott proved to be an excellent tour guide; she mixed in enough questions to keep the Padawans on their toes and never spent too long on any one section to lose too much of the group’s attention. Of course, it helped a great deal that there was enough supervisory firepower along to pry the males away (in some cases literally) from some of the more militaristic hands-on exhibits when it was time to move on.

As always with a group of this size, there were a few problems to be dealt with. About midmorning a couple of the teams got into a spat over who pushed the other away from an exhibit and for the rest of the morning there was a rash of ForceWedgies, Force-guided spitballs and erupting drinking water fountains. The unfortunate Master Bolknen got caught in the middle when one group tried to Force-shove another into a decorative fountain during the lunch break; only the timely intervention of Master Steng saved him from a thorough soaking. The Masters and Knights used a judicious application of Force after lunch to quell the more disruptive outbursts so things were relatively quiet. Regrettably, nobody noticed the small group of Padawans that sneaked away during a bathroom break to try out the two story banisters that curved around the sweeping circular main stairways. When everyone gathered near the entrance for a final headcount they were greeted by the banshee shrieks of two mostly undressed felinoids sliding down the left banister on their furry backs while on the right side a female humanoid whooshing down on her stomach was closely followed by a young man trying to surf down in his socks. The Masters grabbed for the speeding Padawans with the Force to try to keep them from crashing off the end of the banisters but two of them reached for the girl instead the boy. As she came to an abrupt stop, surfer boy tried to flip over her and ended up executing a rather spectacular twenty foot midair cartwheel. Unfortunately for him, the wall was only eighteen feet away.

When they got back to the ship the staff healer took surfer boy to the infirmary to treat his broken nose and the friction burns on his feet. After evening meal all four sliders were confined to the ship doing meditations under the supervision of a staffer while the rest of the group went out to a local concert.

* * * * * * ******************** ****************

The next morning, the ringing in Qui-Gon’s ears was vaguely reminiscent of a deranged charity worker banging on an offkey tambourine. Cracking open one encrusted eye, he looked glumly across the room at his roommate sitting calmly crosslegged on his bunk.

“Aarrggh,” he muttered.

“Forgot your earplugs last night, didn’t you,” Master Steng smiled smugly.

“Urgh ghlele,” Qui-Gon mumbled into his pillow.

“Actually,” said the Master as he scratched his chin thoughtfully, “the kids banging on the drums next to us weren’t too bad until the native dancers came out and the row of Padawans right behind us starting chanting and screaming along with them.”

As Qui-Gon tried to sit up the tambourine went from waltz time to a jig.

“Of course, I doubt if having those extra helpings of the fermented fruit juice is helping things,” Master Steng sniggered.

“You’re not being very helpful,” Qui-Gon accused through a dry mouth.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, my dear Jinn, aren’t we grumpy this morning.”

A brisk tattoo on the door forestalled the snappy reply which was struggling to break through the mass of cobwebs in Qui-Gon’s head. The knock was immediately followed by the entrance of the brown-skinned reptilian staff healer.

“Ah, good, you’re up. I asked Master Steng to notify me when you woke up when I realized you weren’t wearing your ear plugs last night,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Qui-Gon growled. “I don’t need any help, ear plugs or no ear plugs, fruit juice or no fruit juice.”

“Right. If you’re so fine, then stand up, walk over here, and bend over and touch your toes.”

Qui-Gon snorted and heaved himself out of bed. As he started to take a step, he realized that the now frenetic ringing in his ears was wreaking havoc on his sense of balance and the Force was being distinctly uncooperative this morning also. He stood and glowered helplessly.

“All right, be sensible now and sit down so I can help you. Otherwise I guarantee you’re going to have a very long and very miserable day at the museum.”

Considering the painful alternative, Qui-Gon gave in to the lesser of two evils and slowly lowered himself to his bunk. The healer came over and administered a hypodermic, then poured a very large glass of thick green liquid.

“Here, drink this.”

Qui-Gon took the glass and sniffed at it dubiously.

The healer put her hands in the vicinity of what were probably her hips and said firmly, “You will drink this now or the next needle goes in your butt. And I have a very large needle just for very large Masters.”

“What ever happened to bedside manners,” Qui-Gon muttered under his breath as he held his nose and gulped down the faintly fizzy, chalky-tasting goop.

After waiting a few moments for her potions to start working, the healer gently placed one cool hand on each side of the Master’s head and closed her eyes. As the healing power flowed over their connection, Qui-Gon felt the ringing gradually diminish until he felt almost normal again. The healer stepped back and motioned for him to stand up.

Qui-Gon cautiously raised himself to his full height. When there were no abnormal results, he walked back and forth under the healer’s critical eye. Satisfied with the results, the healer gathered her things, flashed him a friendly set of fangs and left. Master Steng finally unfolded himself and got up as well.

“Tour leaves in fifteen minutes, o great and venerable one. See you on the bus.”

Qui-Gon growled at him and headed for the fresher for a quick cleanup.

* * * * * **************** ****************

The bus to the museum was quieter than normal. There were a lot of yawns in evidence due to the lateness of the previous night’s activities. Knowing from earlier experience that the young people would probably be more lethargic than normal at this point in the trip, the staff had scheduled a lot of interactive events to keep them busy. The Masters were able to relax for the most part. After lunch, however, the tour moved on to the statuary garden, and when they got to some large, rather suggestive modern free form outdoor groupings, there was a lot of giggling and whispering among the young Padawans. Taking place in the outdoor statuary garden, the highlight of the afternoon was an exhibit of a local foodcraft art, the making of a frozen delicacy called Mayzmark’s Quenchers. After a demonstration, each team of Padawans was given their own equipment and ingredients and enthusiastically set to work. By the time Qui-Gon set off for his shift as bathroom escort, almost every youngster had a large bowl of the thick, goopy ice treat.

As Qui-Gon was shepherding his charges back to the group, he heard giggling and an odd ‘splooch’ noise. Coming around the corner to the area where the group of Padawans was located, he saw that some wit had decorated the end of a rather phallic looking piece of statuary with vanilla Quencher, which formed a viscous string as it started to melt. Not to be outdone, another bright wag was Force lifting a large dollop of light blue confection onto a large group statue of freeform nudes and someone in one of the groups had started making what they thought were appropriately suggestive noises. Knight Kayshott, who had been conferring with museum officials, chose this time to return. Unfortunately, she ended up in the line of fire of a young Padawan who obviously needed remedial training in Force control and a large ‘splorch’ of bright pink Quencher hit the front of her tunics. There was a brief moment of stunned silence, but the poor Knight’s indignant squawk was the wrong reaction and the next moment there was a veritable Force food explosion as various colors of frozen Quencher went flying everywhere.

Qui-Gon’s first thought was to hit the dirt, knowing that his height made him a prime target. He rolled over behind a large abstract rock grouping, shoving Knight V’Kor out of the way to make room.

“We should stop them, Master Jinn,” said the young Knight.

“Feel free,” replied the Master, pulling his knees up and scrunching his head down to make sure nothing Quenchable showed.

V’Kor poked his head up a bit very cautiously but immediately drew it down again as a bright red ball of goop whizzed by. “Well, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to wait a minute or two, just until they’re a little less excited, of course.”

Qui-Gon smiled grimly, “Of course,” he agreed, silently adding to himself ~ and they run out of ammunition ~ .

A few minutes later things seemed to have quieted down and Qui-Gon pushed Knight V’Kor out to survey the damage. Getting the high sign that the worst was over, Qui-Gon cautiously stood up.

Quencher was dripping off almost every statue and most of the Padawans. The worst of the damage appeared to have been sustained by Knight Kayshott and the luckless Master Bolknen and, to a lesser extent, Master Hathay. Knight Kayshott stood forlornly, tail dragging in the muck, cold sticky Quencher dripping down her fur. The blue skin of Master Bolknen was hardly visible under the multicolor concoctions now covering him. Master Hathay was dithering around, tut-tutting and hissing like a broken steam engine, vainly trying to bring some sort of order to the chaos. Deciding that no one would notice for a while, at this point Masters Jinn and Steng decided discretion was the better part of valor and beat a hasty retreat to the museum’s staff restroom before they disgraced themselves in front of the Padawans by busting a gut laughing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *********************

The next morning came all too early for most of the bleary-eyed Padawans. They had spent the better part of the previous afternoon and early evening using toothbrushes to scrub clean the entire statuary garden to include every statue, bench, sidewalk, rock, tree, bush, and blade of grass in it. Before the dirty and sticky Padawans were allowed back in the ship to eat, they had all lined up on the tarmac outside the vessel for a thorough hosing off. If Knight Kayshott seemed to be wielding her hose a trifle more vigorously than was strictly necessary, well, nobody was about to complain. After a change of clothes and a hot meal, the rest of the evening was spent doing laundry and packing for the next day’s move to the wilderness preserve. During the night the ship left the main spaceport and went to the planet’s secondary port; from there, aircars would take the group on a two hour flight to their designated camping area in the forest. The Padawans stuffed themselves at their last breakfast on the ship as it was well known that the meals on campouts consisted solely of ration bars, water, fruit juice and healthful but frequently strange-tasting local vegetation (hence the traditional never ending battle between Padawans trying to hide food or stage raids to obtain goodies and staff trying to confiscate and hang on to the unhealthful snacks).

About midmorning the little fleet of aircars stopped in a large pleasant clearing near a small river just long enough to disgorge a horde of Padawans followed by the staff and teachers who had not gone ahead the previous day. They were welcomed by the advance party who quickly organized the Padawans into their proper teams and issued them the parts to set up their tents. Once the tents were up, the staff organized Padawan working parties and supervised the proper building of fire pits and latrines accompanied by lessons on field safety and sanitation. The Padawan tents were in a section in the south half of the clearing while the staff tents were in the north half. In between the two sections was a large cleared area for the firepits, eating area and team classes or katas.

Masters Steng and Jinn snagged a tent site in the middle of the first staff row along the edge of the middle cleared area. They had tent and cots up in short order, laid out their bed rolls, then took particular care in chaining down their locked food boxes to prevent incursions from Padawan raiders. After a short lunch break, the Padawan teams were turned over to some of the staff instructors for lessons in foraging for and preparing native vegetations while the Masters scouted out suitable locations for their assigned classes.

Qui-Gon spent the next three hours wandering around the forest near the camp. He located the shallow ford in the waterway just above the camp and marked out a site on the other side for the dawn meditation classes he would be teaching for the next four mornings. He found some suitable areas for his classes in Exploring the Living Force then briefly met with a few of the other Masters and instructors to coordinate the classes for which he was assigned to assist. At fourth hour he found himself well down the river and had run across an inviting pool where the river widened briefly near a forested bank. The day had been much hotter than normal so he discarded his cloak before taking advantage of the private time to stretch out and perform some katas. Having worked up a good sweat, he decided to take a swim before heading back to camp. After checking to make sure no one was around, he undressed and waded gratefully into the cool water.

After a half hour of diving and blissfully quiet floating, Qui-Gon came back out on the bank. He stood in the direct sunlight for several minutes, letting the heat dry him naturally as he enjoyed the pleasant sensation. Shaking his hair out, he went to get dressed but was mildly annoyed to find that his clothes did not seem to be where he left them. He thought for a moment, then cast about in a circle, rapidly becoming more than mildly annoyed when no clothing was to be found. Finally coming around a large tree, he came across his boots dangling from a low hanging branch, the utility belt neatly coiled around the same branch. Knowing full well that he had not left his boots in the tree, he came to the conclusion that this was probably all that he was going to find and hoped that the rest of it had at least made it back to camp since it was one of his most comfortable pairs of field leggings that was missing. Now he had to decide how he was going to get back to his tent. Although the Jedi discouraged unnecessary modesty and he was used to showering in the common locker room after workouts back at the Temple, that still didn’t mean he was looking forward to parading around nude in front of a group of young, curious Padawans of mixed sexes. Unfortunately it didn’t look like he was going to have much a choice since his tent was practically in the middle of camp, so he decided to just walk back in dignified silence.

Keeping his head up and eyes forward, Qui-Gon marched resolutely back toward his tent, skirting the edge of the Padawan tent area. He was acutely aware of the attention he was drawing but he was damned if he was going to give the little urchins the satisfaction of knowing it. He maintained a staid and sedate pace both for the sake of his dignity and so neither his lightsaber or certain exposed parts started swinging too rapidly and drew even more attention.

Past the first row of tents, so far so good, and now almost past the next row. Then it started. A gasp, a giggle. Then more giggles, mostly in high-pitched, feminine sounding voices.

“Oh my seven gods and deities,” was the first whisper. “It’s, … it’s so BIG.”

Running feet. “You’ve got to see this.” “Oh sweet Force, it’s true.” “Hey, come see both of his light sabers.” Giggles. “It’s really true.”

By now Qui-Gon was sure he could feel the eyes staring at him as he continued his progress. He could certainly hear what was starting to sound like hundreds of loathsome little Padawans giggling and whispering, but only a few voices were loud enough to make out actual words.

One voice sounded suspiciously like Obi-Wan. “I told you it was bigger than your Master’s.” The response was almost as loud, “Wow, you could choke a bantha with that thing.” Another voice that he thought might be Bant’s, “Well, I think he’s kind of cute. But there is an awful lot of him, isn’t there?”

By now he had reached the last row of Padawan tents and had to cut across the row and across the thirty feet of clearing between the Padawan and staff tent areas to reach his own tent in the middle of the first row of staff tents. It was only by major use of the Force and his hard won skills as a Jedi Master that he kept the blush off his face (and other body parts) and maintained an outward show of serenity. By now, however, the commotion in the Padawan’s area had started to attract attraction over in the staff area and he could see a few heads starting to pop out of tents.

~ I am going to kill the first one who whistles ~ he thought grimly as he continued his progress across the open area. About ten feet from the safety of his tent, Master Steng wandered through the row of tents to stand in front of their tent and coolly look him over.

“What the Force are you doing?” he sniggered. “Trying out for the centerfold of Jedi of the Month?” He leered suggestively, “I have to admit the boots and belt idea is kinda hot, you know.” Ripples of laughter echoed from the staff area.

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and marched on. Steng quickly slid out of his way as he noted the intense look of determination in the Masters eyes and realized that anything between Jinn and the tent was about to be unceremoniously run over.

Stepping gratefully inside the sanctuary of his temporary dwelling, Qui-Gon let out a sigh of relief. Moving forward into the middle of the tent, he noted that his clothes were neatly folded and stacked in the middle of his cot. Master Steng followed him in and sat down on his own cot, almost choking from the barely suppressed guffaws. As Qui-Gon turned to make a caustic comment to Steng, the tent flap opened.

“Just what isss going on …,” started Master Hathay before she got a good look at the view.

Legs spread, hands on hips, Qui-Gon said icily, “Do you *mind*? A little privacy would be nice.”

“Oh … oh my.” Blinking her eyes, Master Hathay finally forced her gaze northward. Noting the look on Qui-Gon’s face, she started to back hastily out of the tent, muttering , “Of courssse, of courssse, sssso sssorry, let me know if there are any problemsss, oh my, oh dear …”

* * * * * ** * * * * * * *****************

The predawn darkness was cool and quiet, the Force a quiet background hum. By nature a morning person, Qui-Gon eagerly breathed in the earthy fragrances, listened to the murmuring of the water, and allowed himself a small smile of pleasure. He still had several minutes before the scheduled arrival of the two Padawan teams designated for this morning’s dawn meditation session with him. Master Jevana nodded silently as she passed him and headed a little further downstream to wait for the Padawans assigned to her dawn class on local wildlife. Qui-Gon closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet lull.

As the first fingers of light brushed distant treetops, Qui-Gon heard the splashing of boots in the shallow ford and opened his eyes. Twelve Padawans filed across and trooped down to join Master Jevana, who then led them off into the forest. Several more minutes passed before Padawan Bant and two other female Padawans wandered across the ford, yawning hugely. Bant murmured an apology for being late and said the rest of her team was on the way. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes the other nine Padawans straggled in by ones and twos as Qui-Gon’s patience grew shorter. By the time the last student arrived and the group moved off to the class location dawn had also arrived in full force, light filtering through the trees and reflecting off the water. By the time scheduled for the end of the class, Qui-Gon was sufficiently irritated at the students’ lateness, the missing of the best part of the sunrise and the almost constant interruptions due to yawns and stomach rumblings that he made the entire group stay an extra fifteen minutes to discuss the importance of promptness. His mood was not improved when Master Jevana’s group filed cheerily out of the forest and he remembered how punctually the entire group had arrived earlier.

After an unappetizing breakfast of ration bars, water and some unidentifiable stewed purple-green leafy substance, Qui-Gon cornered the reticent Master Jevana and asked to speak to her. She looked around, jerked her head toward the edge of camp, and walked slowly to the treeline. The Zabrakian then stopped and waited.

“Master Jevana, it is a well known fact that most teenage Padawans are notoriously difficult to get up in the morning,” started Qui-Gon.

Master Jevana nodded.

“Well, I couldn’t help noticing that your entire group, all twelve of them, arrived on time for a dawn class. If you don’t mind me asking, I was wondering how you managed to get all of them there that early.”

The quiet Master looked around to ensure that they were unobserved, then reached into her robe and dug around in a pocket for a moment. She then briefly held up a sweetnut bar before quickly returning it to the hiding place.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and paused for a moment before speaking. “Are you telling me that you *bribed* them?”

She gave a small smile before softly confiding, “It works better with the male Padawans. Be discreet.” Having concluded what was, for her, a long speech, Master Jevana bowed slightly and walked back to camp, leaving a very thoughtful Master Jedi standing in the trees.

Although Qui-Gon diligently carried out his duties the rest of the day, his mind was busy trying to decide how to get the word out to his next group of students about his new incentive program. After mentally reviewing the inventory of his stash, he knew he had plenty of confiscated goodies to cover the remaining three dawn classes. He waited until the evening meal and decided to approach the oldest Padawan on each team. Munching slowly on a ration bar, he struck up a casual conversation with each boy. It was easy to bring the talk around to the topic of food; waving the ration bar around, Qui-Gon carefully dropped some hints about how getting up early could stimulate the appetite and that if all the Padawans showed up on time it would be a ‘fulfilling’ class (wink, nudge, wink). He chatted along this line until he saw the light of comprehension finally dawn in the Padawan’s eyes (although he did have a few misgivings that one of them seemed to be an awfully dim bulb indeed), then finished the conversation by giving him the rest of his ration bar. Satisfied with the results of both attempts, he retired to his tent to prepare twelve sets of snacks, pointedly ignoring the snide inquisition from his tent mate and the aspersions that gentleman cast upon his motivational capabilities.

 

* * * * * * * * * * *********************

Masters Jinn and Steng had retreated to the shade of a large tree to relax and enjoy a cup of tea after the late afternoon classes and nightmeal. The evening was warm and the clear weather promised at least another hour or so of daylight. Qui-Gon was pleased with the day so far. All twelve Padawans had made it on time for his dawn class, although the last two had looked like they had been dragged bodily out of their bedrolls and were still trying to dress on the way to class. The meditation had gone well and Qui-Gon studiously ignored the subdued crunching, considering it to be a reasonable tradeoff for not having to put up with the rumbling stomachs and distinct lack of enthusiasm of the previous morning. The rest of his classes had gone relatively well except for a slight mishap in a water skills course but the amphibious Knight V’Kor had quickly rescued the two feline Padawans who had been swept into the deeper waters and emerged hissing and spitting. Qui-Gon had successfully contacted the two head Padawans for tomorrow’s dawn class and was satisfied that they would make sure everyone made it on time. All in all, a rather quiet and pleasant day so far, almost enough to convince one that this field trip stuff wasn’t really so bad after all.

As the two Masters chatted desultorily about the events of this relatively nice third day in the woods, Qui-Gon noticed out of the corner of his eye that several of the Padawans from team seven were standing at the edge of the tents apparently arguing about something, occasionally glancing in his direction.

Steng also saw them and nudged Qui-Gon, “That’s your group, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s some of them,” Qui-Gon replied uneasily as he caught sight of the unhappy expressions on the Padawans’ faces.

Both Masters fell silent as they watched the Padawans conclude their discussion and push one member in their direction. It was the oldest Padawan of the group, a fifteen-year old humanoid named Gwalvick. He slowly walked toward the two Masters, the other four trailing him in a tight little pack. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Qui-Gon realized that the missing sixth member of the team was the smallest and youngest Padawan, W’Pivnor. The little group finally reached the vicinity of the Masters, misery almost palpably radiating from their erubescent leader.

“Uh, good evening, Master Jinn, Master Steng,” said the boy unhappily, looking down at the ground.

“Good evening, Padawan Gwalvick,” replied Qui-Gon.

A long moment passed as the boy started to dig a hole with the toe of his boot and the other boys shifted uncomfortably.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Qui-Gon finally prompted.

“Well, uh, yes, sir, we were practicing some of the stuff from Master Jevana’s class on edible native vegetation, and we had a bit of a problem.”

“What sort of problem, Padawan?”

Another moment of silence as the boy looked around at his comrades for help. Finally, someone at the back whispered loudly, “Pivy’s stuck in a tree.”

“I didn’t quite catch that, could you elaborate for me, Padawan Gwalvick?” said Qui-Gon sternly as he shot a glance at Steng warning him not to laugh.

The oldest Padawan looked up miserably, “Uh, well, yessir, we found one of the trees that had brasteen nuts in it but they were kind of high up. We helped Pivy, I mean Padawan W’Pivnor, climb up so he could pull the nuts and throw them down. But after he got finished, I guess he got scared and he wouldn’t come down. So he’s still up there.”

Qui-Gon restrained himself from sighing. “As I recall, the type of trees that have brasteen nuts tend not to have any low level branches. Do you mind telling me how Padawan W’Pivnor climbed high enough to get to the nuts?”

“Well, he was the smallest …”

“And?” prompted Qui-Gon again.

“We sort of got together and, uh, Force-boosted him up, sir.”

“And how did you intend to get him back down?”

There was a great shuffling of feet as all of the boys looked down and around, everywhere but at Master Jinn.

“Well?” asked Qui-Gon, looking directly at the oldest boy.

“I, uh, guess we hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, sir.”

“Evidently not. What do you intend to do about the situation?”

“Do?”

“Yes, are your ears as defective as your brain?”

“No, sir. But if we knew how to get him down, we wouldn’t have asked for your help, Master Jinn,” said the Padawan ingenuously.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and gave a long suffering sigh before continuing. When he looked over at Master Steng he glumly noted a very suspicious twitching of the lips and tremor in the shoulders. Standing up, he looked down at the group.

“Alright, boys, I want you to find Knight V’kor and ask him to bring the tree climbing equipment, then come back and get me so we can all go together to retrieve Padawan W’Pivnor.”

After a chorus of “Yes, Master Jinn”, the young apprentices scampered off on their errand. As soon as they were out of earshot, Master Steng burst out in a loud string of chortles.

“Oh, shut up,” Qui-Gon snarled. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Not half as ridiculous as you’re going to look trying to get that boy down out of that tree. By now he’s probably so scared he’s not going to let go of whatever he’s hanging on to for all the food in the Temple, so I doubt you’ll be able to just float him down. Are you going up after him?”

“Of course not. Do you have any idea what I look like trying to climb a tree?” he shuddered. “That’s why we have young Knights along. Let them do the dirty work and get all scratched up.”

“Brilliant, my dear Jinn. I just hope the Padawan cooperates in your rescue plan.”

Qui-Gon’s rejoinder was cut short by the quick arrival of Knight V’Kor and the troupe of anxious Padawans. They gathered up the Master and set out to find the tree with their missing companion.

After a brisk twenty minute hike away from the camp, the group arrived at the base of a large and distinctive tree. As Qui-Gon had surmised, the tree was bare of lower limbs for a good fifteen feet before it started sprouting the springy, leafy branches which held the highly prized sweet brasteen nuts. Looking up, they could see a small figure in ivory clutching tightly to a large branch about twenty-five feet up. For the next fifteen minutes they tried in vain to convince the young boy to let go of the branch so Qui-Gon could float him down safely with the Force, but the only response was a series of sobs and loud wails of fright. Since it was starting to get dark, they decided not to wait any longer, and Knight V’Kor put on the climbing spikes, gloves and safety belt. After carefully fastening the safety rope around the tree, the Knight began slowly ascending as Qui-Gon monitored to ensure he did not slip.

They could all see Knight V’Kor talking to the young boy clinging to the branch. They then all heard the high pitched screams as the Knight tried to persuade the boy to let go of the branch so the Knight could carry him down. The next thing they saw was the Knight sliding carefully back down the tree, still without the Padawan.

“I’m sorry, Master Jinn, but he absolutely refuses to let go,” reported V’Kor after he was safely down. “And I think he may have damaged one of my ear drums when he screamed into my ear, too.”

~ What are these young Knights coming to nowadays? ~ Qui-Gon groused to himself. ~ Can’t even get one little Padawan out of a tree. ~ Aloud, the Master replied serenely, “Very well. Knight V’Kor, you stay over here with the other Padawans. I will go up and get W’Pivnor.” Qui-Gon made sure everyone saw him attach the climbing spikes over his boots and attach the safety belt and rope before he moved around to the back of the tree out of their sight to begin his ascent. He hoped it was dark enough that no one could actually see what he was doing; he knew from past experience he was not built for this kind of tree climbing and tended to look like an Ignell InchWorm because his long legs made his butt stick out every time he had to raise his feet to dig in with the climbing spikes before he could raise the safety rope. He opted for Force over form to zip up the tree and only seriously dug in with the spikes once he had reached the spot where the boy was cowering. Leaning back against the safety rope, he surveyed the problem before him and realized the white-knuckled grip the boy had on the branch was probably not coming loose without some drastic measures.

“Padawan W’Pivnor, you need to come down from this tree” he said quietly.

Loud wails of anguish greeted this pronouncement. “I’m goonnna faaaaallll.”

Qui-Gon winced and gritted his teeth as the decibel level rose sharply. Since reason and logic did not appear to have an icicle’s chance of working, he tightened the safety rope then leaned over with one long arm and grabbed a large handful of tunic. As he suddenly bellowed in the boy’s ear “Let go NOW!” he simultaneously pulled hard. The Padawan was sufficiently startled that he momentarily loosened his deathgrip on the branch and Qui-Gon succeeded in pulling the boy over and clasping him to his chest. Unfortunately the death grip immediately reestablished itself around the Jedi Master’s neck as the short legs failed miserably in trying to wrap themselves around the large waist. About the same time Qui-Gon also discovered that the boy’s hands and tunics were covered with sweet, sticky sap from the brasteen nut clusters and the death grip around his neck included liberal amounts of long hair clutched in the grubby little fists.

Resolutely ignoring the pain from the tightly gripped hair, Qui-Gon rapidly compared the length of time he could hold his breath against how quickly he could get down from the tree and concluded that it would be better to start down immediately rather than waste time trying to get the Padawan to release his stranglehold. He soon found that his descent was hampered somewhat by the large clinging mass of the crying, hiccuping boy but was making relatively good time until one of the spikes slipped about halfway down and he lurched to one side. His concentration was then disrupted by the high-pitched scream in his left ear which was accompanied by a sudden rush of wet warmth flooding through his tunics and starting to trickle down his stomach. Muttering curses in three languages he discarded any semblance of proper tree climbing technique and dropped straight down the last twelve feet, using the Force to break their fall at the last moment. Once down on the ground, Qui-Gon had time to concentrate on putting the frazzled boy to sleep with a Force suggestion. With V’Kor’s assistance he was then able to unwrap the small but tenacious arms from around his neck, very carefully removing the tangled hair from the sticky grasp.

An hour later Qui-Gon had deposited Knight V’Kor and Padawan W’Pivnor at the healers tent, shepherded the rest of team seven to their tent and rinsed out his wet, fragrant tunics. It took him the better part of another hour to remove the snarls, tangles and errant sticky clumps from his hair as his tentmate chattered on unsympathetically.

****************** ******************* ****************

Qui-Gon sighed as he sat on his cot in just his leggings and a light tunic. It was very late evening but just starting to turn pleasantly cool. He had finally gotten his hair brushed out to his satisfaction and his thoughts were starting to turn toward sleep. Steng had brought back fresh water and was brewing a light herbal tea for both of them as they dug through their stashes in preparation for a last snack. Fortunately neither of them had headcount duties tonight so they were enjoying the rare night off.

Both Masters were sitting back, sipping tea and munching happily, when there was a bloodcurdling scream from the direction of the Padawan tent area. It was immediately followed by more screaming, yelling and running feet. With his keen reflexes and finely honed responses tempered by years of experience, Qui-Gon immediately recognized the proper priorities of the situation and took charge.

“You go find out what’s going on,” he called to Master Steng, “I’ll stay and guard the food.” He quickly returned the food bags to their respective boxes, relocked the boxes and doused the lights as his tentmate headed across the clearing, lightsaber in hand. After locking the chains which secured the food boxes to the two cots and the tent poles, Qui-Gon knelt quietly just inside the entrance to the tent, unlit lightsaber in his right hand, and listened intently. A few minutes later his patience was rewarded by the sound of stealthy footsteps outside the back of the tent.

Rustle. Rustle. The bottom of the tent slowly lifted and Qui-Gon felt a wandering tendril of Force drift into the tent, heading toward the food box near Master Steng’s cot. The box moved only a few inches until the restraints began clanking.

“Sith, they’ve got chains on this one,” came a muffled voice, and the chains clanked some more as the box rocked.

“Leave it,” came the urgent reply. “COME ON, will you, we’ve only got a few minutes.”

“I’m hungry,” whined a third voice. “You said there would be food…”

“Just shut up and keep watch. Come on, let’s try over there …” the voice trailed off as footsteps whispered through the grass.

Qui-Gon smiled to himself as he silently slipped out the tent’s entrance. He carefully probed the area with a Force net to ensure that this was not another diversion. The raid seemed to be relatively well coordinated as the groups of Padawans he felt roaming about seemed to be attacking separate rows; none were as close as the three who had moved to the tent next to his. Stealthily he padded around the side of the tent, carefully avoiding ropes and stakes. He peered around the edge of the tent, looking down the aisle created by the back to back rows of tents. The marauders were now two tents down, huddled around a bag. Qui-Gon felt a faint tendril of Force concentration from the largest boy, then there was a click as a lock sprung open and the contents of the bag were spilled out onto the grass. As the Padawans grabbed for the food, Qui-Gon ignited his weapon and sprang out from behind the tent, rearing up to his full height and loosing a frightful roar, lightsaber waving in the air.

Screams and screeches rent the air as the three young bipeds scrambled and sprawled, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. The noise set off a ripple of other running feet, punctuated by a few shouts. As Qui-Gon advanced, lightsaber held high, the three Padawans finally made it to their feet and set off at a dead run. Qui-Gon trotted after them, lobbing an occasional Force swat. Although the chase was rather fun, he didn’t actually want to catch them since they hadn’t really done any damage. Qui-Gon was well aware of the work that went into planning these raids and the scorn of their peers for having been seen and returning without food would be punishment enough. As the trio approached the end of row Qui-Gon launched one last Force swat as he prepared to stop. Unfortunately, at that moment a hooded figure stepped around the last tent directly into the path of the fleeing Padawans. Qui-Gon’s swat caused the leading escapee to stumble and sent him headfirst into the dark figure. As both went down in a heap, the remaining Padawans ran over the pile, stopping only long enough to drag their companion to his feet and make their escape. Qui-Gon shook his head as he approached the moaning figure on the ground; even without the confirmation provided by his small utility light he knew he would see the blue face of the luckless Master Bolknen.

After helping Master Bolknen to the healer’s tent Qui-Gon returned to his own temporary dwelling. He found Master Steng already there, getting ready to retire. After Qui-Gon told him about the attempted raid, Steng related how the diversion had been set up by releasing several particularly smelly rodents and slimy reptiles in some of the female Padawans’ tents. The particularly loud screams had come from two humanoid females who had been rudely awakened when several live, wet fish were Force lifted into their bedrolls. As they finished trading their respective tales, Master Hathay stuck her head in the tent briefly to inquire if all was well. After she left to check the rest of her troops, the two Masters retired for the remainder of the night, satisfied with the successful defense of their home.

***************** **************** ***************

The fourth day arrived damp and foggy. A Padawan team of various reptilian species arrived early for Qui-Gon’s sunrise meditation class, eyes gleaming brightly in the mist. The second team of primarily male humanoids straggled in over several minutes, a few looking as if they had slept in their clothes, the last frantically dashing from the camp in leggings and boots, tunics in hand as his teammates sarcastically urged him to hurry. Since they were mostly on time, Qui-Gon allowed both teams to pick up the snacks he had cached at the class site. After several days of living on ration bars, strange vegetation and the results of their own after-hours foraging, the growing Padawans were becoming ravenous. Qui-Gon decided that most of this group must not have had much success in the previous night’s attempted raid as the food disappeared almost before Qui-Gon had settled into his opening spiel. Fortunately a few of the Padawans were either smart enough, polite enough or well-fed enough to show an interest in the Living Force and asked enough questions that the hour passed relatively quickly despite the occasional stomach rumble or yawn. At the end of the class Qui-Gon escorted the group back to the ford, meeting Master Jevana’s students at the river. Since the morning mist had not burned off yet, the two Masters waited until all of the Padawans had safely negotiated the water crossing before passing over themselves and heading back to camp for breakfast in companionable silence.

By the time Qui-Gon reached the cooking area almost everyone else had picked up their breakfast and found a place to eat. Catching a whiff of the morning’s experiment in local plant life, he decided to take his ration bar and a mug of tea back to his tent and get some sweet biscuits from his reserve. He followed Master Jevana through the last of the line, stopping afterward to put a little sweetening in his tea. Sniffing appreciatively, he noted that the tea was particularly hot and strong this morning; just the right pick-me-up for this dull morning. Blowing gently across the surface of the dark brew, Qui-Gon was about to take a sip when he suddenly felt his forearm caught and held in an iron grip. Too surprised to protest, he looked down and saw Master Jevana, one hand on his arm, staring fixedly at the group of Masters and Knights just finishing breakfast. Lowering his mug, he followed her gaze, trying to figure out what she was looking at. For several moments he listened to the group discussing the previous night’s raid but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He was about to ask for enlightenment when he saw Master Hathay laugh at someone’s joke and suddenly realized – TEETH! All of her teeth were red; looking more closely he caught several glimpses of red teeth; it was particularly noticeable on the Knights and Masters with prominent fangs.

Master Jevana leaned over to sniff at his mug, then nodded. “Begayla root,” she pronounced.

Qui-Gon looked at her quizzically, “I thought begayla root was used as a dye for clothing.”

She nodded. “Also reacts with tannin in tea.”

Comprehension dawned as Qui-Gon considered the class schedule. “Begayla root is one of the topics in your ‘Practical Uses for Local Flora’ class, isn’t it?”

Jevana nodded again.

Qui-Gon nodded back in thanks as he surreptitiously dumped his tea. They both watched in silence for a few more minutes, wondering who would be the first to notice. The suspense was broken by a chorus of Padawan giggles from behind a nearby tent as the normally oblivious Master Bolknen suddenly stared in open-mouthed fascination at the jovial trip leader’s flashing red fangs. Shortly thereafter everyone had caught on; reactions varied from disgust to mild amusement at having been caught in the trick. Qui-Gon grinned at Jevana before departing for his tent to eat a quiet breakfast. He got the added enjoyment of getting to poke fun at his tentmate who glared at him while industriously trying to scrub the stubborn red stains from his teeth.

**************** ******************* **************

The morning passed uneventfully. The sun finally broke through the overcast but the late morning turned hot and humid, leaving everyone feeling grungy and a bit short tempered. Lunch was a dismal affair; the Padawans who had been unsuccessful in the raid wolfed down their ration bars and boiled local grains while their better fed companions smirked at them. The staff who either had not brought enough reserve food or who had not successfully protected their stash picked reluctantly at their meals. Not even the knowledge that tomorrow afternoon they would get to break camp and return to the ship could break the dire mood. Since most of the nearby woods had been thoroughly foraged by now, the staff decided it was time to take the Padawan teams further afield for a practical exercise. They also hoped the combination of exercise and fresh food would lighten the mood as well. Qui-Gon and a staffer joined Master Jevana’s group, which included his own team seven Padawans and Bant’s group of female humanoid Padawans. They hiked for an hour and then stopped by a small stream for a short rest before continuing. Qui-Gon admired Master Jevana’s economical use of words as she quietly prodded the Padawans to take note of the surrounding forest for signs of edible native foods. Bant had the first success; the small stream widened into a long pool and she spotted some water plants at the shallow end of the pool bearing loose clumps of reddish berries. One of the boys offered cheekily to check the deeper end of the pool for fish; at that suggestion there was a snicker from the other Padawans on team seven and several disgusted mutters from one of the females about what he could do with his fish.

Master Jevana looked steadily at the boy with her usual bland but benign expression which had been known to make even Masters squirm when she chose to stare them down. Qui-Gon suspected she was well aware of all of the previous night’s events and was happy to just fade into the treeline and stay out of her line of fire. When things had quieted to her satisfaction, she nodded to the now twitching, red-faced boy and said “Proceed.”

With a relieved and enthusiastic “Yes, Master,” the Padawan headed to the edge of the pool and started to take off his boots.

“Stop,” said Master Jevana. As the boy looked back in confusion, the Zabrakian pointed to the boy, one of his companions and the female who had made the earlier remarks. She gestured for Qui-Gon to join them. She addressed the group, “Use the Force to find fish.” She turned to the rest of the group, “Padawans Gwalvick and W’Pivnor, make baskets to carry food back in.” The staffer was directed to take Bant and two others to gather berries, then Jevana took the remaining Padawans off to look for more potential food items.

By the time Qui-Gon joined the trio of Padawans by the bank of the pool, the conversation had already turned decidedly unenthusiastic.

“You can just keep your stupid old fish,” snarled Padawan Spirek, “they’re such nasty, slimy things.” She shuddered with disgust. Padawan Spirek’s species was from a hot desert background and she had hardly endeared herself to the group with her constant complaints about the temperature, the weather, the food, the classes, and, well, you name it and she had probably complained about it.

“Fish are too good to waste on you,” retorted Padawan Reshko. Reshko was a thin boy with sleek black hair, pale skin and slightly webbed fingers. His companion, Krevber, a husky lad with a light coat of blondish fur all over and pointed ears, was content to listen quietly to the others.

Qui-Gon interrupted just as Spirek was drawing breath for another caustic comment. “Padawans,” he said calmly but in a tone that brooked no nonsense. “We have a task to perform so the sooner we get to it the better.”

The two Padawans glared at each other for a moment but then gathered obediently to sit along the bank with the Master. Qui-Gon tried to get his little group composed and serene enough to reach out to the fish in the pool but soon found the Padawan Spirek was one of the most disharmonious little … ; he stopped that thought in its infancy as being unworthy of a Jedi Master but it was still quite irritating. Sighing, he finally turned to Padawan Reshko.

“Do you actually have any sort of affinity for fish, Padawan?”

The boy blushed and glanced at his companion. “Well, yes, sir, I guess so, but I usually need to have contact with the water to do it very well.”

“How about if you give us a demonstration. Try it by putting your hands in the water and see if you can call some fish over.”

“Yes, Master Jinn,” said Reshko enthusiastically. Padawan Spirek gave a sniff of disgust and moved a little further away.

Qui-Gon was quietly impressed with the youngster’s concentration and wished the boy had contributed more to the dawn meditation sessions. He noticed that the other two had quietly edged further apart.

“Padawan Krevber, would you like to try it?” he asked encouragingly.

The boy looked up shyly and shook his head no. He looked longingly over to where Gwalvick and W’Pivnor were sitting, weaving baskets from the large pile of reeds they had gathered.

“You like to make things?” Qui-Gon asked gently.

“Yes, Master Jinn,” he answered so softly as to be almost inaudible.

Qui-Gon smiled and waved the boy over to join the basket-weaving crew. That still left him with the sulking Spirek but he decided to just ignore her for the moment.

Checking back on Padawan Reshko he found that the boy had in fact succeeded in drawing several fish over toward their vicinity. Extending his own senses, Qui-Gon could tell that the pool was well populated and removing a dozen or so of the larger fish would not cause any problem. He gestured for W’Pivnor to bring over a completed basket, then showed the two boys how to use the Force to carefully scoop the fish up out of the water and onto the bank. He tried to get Spirek to join in and do something useful but it took a great deal of prodding before she would even agree to help pick large leaves to pack the fish in. Qui-Gon could tell the other Padawans were growing increasingly irritated with her whining.

Several minutes later Bant’s group came over to join them. As Qui-Gon complimented them on the three bags of berries they had gathered, he heard a small splash behind him, then a high pitched scream.

“Get it out, get it out!” screeched Spirek as she jumped and spun around.

“Hold still, Padawan,” commanded Qui-Gon, but his admonition had little effect.

“Ugh, get it out, it’s so slimy,” Spirek screeched again.

Qui-Gon finally gathered that someone had evidently slipped a fish down the back of the girl’s tunic. He felt more sympathy for the fish than for the girl but knew he had to rescue her if for no other reason than to get her to stop that infernal noise. He reached for her to try to grab an arm but as she spun around a flying elbow caught him across the bridge of the nose, knocking him off balance and causing stars to briefly dance across his vision. By now she was squirming dangerously close to the edge of the pool. Qui-Gon was the only one close enough to grab her but his lunge was off-balance and both Master and Padawan slid over the edge into the water.

Between the fish and the fall into the pool, Padawan Spirek was now flailing around like mad and another elbow caught Qui-Gon under the left eye. By now, though, he had had quite enough and enveloped the sputtering girl in a Force sheath. He held her immobile until he could retrieve the poor fish and return it to the pool, then threw her up onto the bank before climbing out himself.

Spirek was still sputtering and fussing as Qui-Gon lined up his suspects. Snapping at her to be quiet, he crossed his arms and gazed sternly at the other Padawans until he saw Reshko turn red and look down. Stepping in front of the boy, Qui-Gon demanded in his sternest tone, “Did you put that fish in Padawan Spirek’s tunic?”

By now the poor boy had turned bright red and was squirming miserably. Qui-Gon stared down relentlessly until the Padawan finally muttered, “Yes, sir.”

By the time Qui-Gon had made the boy apologize and give her his dry tunic, Master Jevana had returned with the rest of the crew. They had found a few bags of tuber-like vegetables; combined with the berries and fish their team would be able to make a respectable contribution to the evening meal. After a final headcount, the loads were evenly distributed (although Spirek was still complaining) and the group started the hike home. Qui-Gon trudged along uncomfortably in his wet boots, but as it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about being alone in his misery. Halfway back to camp the clouds which had been gathering finally opened up with a major deluge and everyone was soaked by the time they got back.

 

********* ************ ***************

The rain continued to fall throughout the afternoon and evening, varying from a light drizzle to several drenching downpours, and the light soil in the clearing had turned to mud. Coverings had been erected over the firepits but even with Force assistance it had been difficult to keep fires alight long enough to fully cook enough hot food for the large group. In any event, since not all of the teams had been successful in their foraging, the quantity of stew which had been concocted from the fish and various vegetable-like offerings that were brought in was only sufficient to provide one bowl per being. Several teams had also brought in fruit or nuts; these were shared out among the Padawans, the staff giving up their share to ensure that all of the Padawans got at least some small treat. Qui-Gon squelched back to his tent with his bowl of stew. Although technically they weren’t supposed to, by now he was so sick of the inevitable ration bar that he had unobtrusively palmed off his to his Padawan, knowing Obi-Wan would eat anything that didn’t eat him first.

“Evening, Jinn,” said his tentmate amiably as Qui-Gon ducked under the entrance flap and made his way to his cot. Qui-Gon had found early on that one of the main advantages for retaining Steng as his room and tent mate, aside from the fact that he didn’t snore, was that somewhere on one of his missions the bald Master had acquired an exceptionally small and efficient field stove and enjoyed providing hot tea for both of them from the wide variety of excellent teas and herbs that he carried with him. Tonight was no exception and Qui-Gon was grateful for the steaming mug he found waiting for him.

Qui-Gon sniffed appreciatively. “Smells very good tonight, Master Steng. Is that a touch of citrus?”

“Zetral, actually. It’s a bit like a lemon but has more zip to it. A couple of cups will help clear the sinuses quite nicely.”

“It’s very good.” Qui-Gon rummaged in his food bag for a moment. “Would you like some crackers to go with the stew? I’ve still got a couple of packages left.”

“I think I will, thanks.” Master Steng looked up from his meal after carefully crumbling several crackers and stirring them into his stew. “It’s the last night in camp, you know. With the weather as bad as it is, do you think the Padawans are going to try anything?”

“Well, it is traditional to stage a raid the last night since it is supposed to encourage the Padawans to learn to work together. As the last one does not seem to have gone as well as it might, I suspect quite a few of them will be participating if only for the chance to snag some goodies.”

“You’re probably right. I saw on the duty roster that we both have headcount duties tonight; I think it would be a good idea to make sure our stuff is locked up before we leave the tent. Just to be on the safe side.” Steng hesitated a moment, “You know, Jevana told me she heard rumors that we had been picked as the ‘challenge target’ tonight.”

Qui-Gon uttered several short sharp expletives and felt his dinner turn sour in his stomach. To be identified as the challenge target was sort of an honor since it meant they had been picked as the most difficult and/or dangerous pair of Knights or Masters to defeat, but it also meant that they were fair game for the Padawans to gang up on and try every trick they could think of. Although no one was supposed to be seriously injured in these frays, the Padawans had the advantage of numbers and the advantage that everyone, including staff and Masters with a juvenile sense of humor (like that damned Yoda, he thought to himself savagely) thought it was great fun if they managed to inflict damage on the dignity and/or food stocks of the target. He groaned as he remembered some of the indignities that he had helped inflict when he was a Padawan and just hoped he made it through the night in one piece.

“I don’t suppose she could have been mistaken?” he asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, I doubt it. She’s so quiet everyone forgets she’s around and she hears everything that’s happening. I think perhaps you shouldn’t have done such a good job running off those three Padawans that tried to get in the other night. Supposedly at least two of them pissed themselves and Jevana said they really got a razzing from the others. All day they’ve been daring anyone who would listen to do better.”

Qui-Gon drained the last of his tea and sat staring gloomily into the mug. “I don’t suppose we could just take one of the boxes, put it out behind the tent and let them have it ….”

“Qui-Gon Jinn, how could you even think like that!” said Master Steng in a stern voice.

“Look, Steng, I have a really bad feeling about this. I’ve been relatively lucky so far and I just want to go home in one piece and get this Force-benighted trip over with.”

“Oh, come now, that’s hardly the right spirit. Are you going to let a bunch of little Padawan twerps get over on two Masters that easily?”

“Yes. I’ll give them my box if you want if they’ll just leave us alone.”

“Nonsense. You’re a Jedi Master and there is Jedi tradition to be upheld tonight. It is your duty to participate.”

“What if I said I had a really, really, really bad feeling about tonight and you could stuff your stupid traditions.”

“Then I would tell you that you were being silly and remind you about how long you would have to put up with Yoda’s snide remarks if he ever found out you funked it tonight.” Steng smiled in smug triumph.

Qui-Gon threw out a few more half-hearted curses but knew when he was defeated. Bowing to the inevitable, he helped Steng pack up most of their gear so it would be ready for tomorrow’s departure (and hopefully less easy to raid), then turned in for a nap.

 

At tenth hour a small group of Jedi moved through the light drizzle to gather in the staff working tent. Master Hathay checked her duty roster to ensure she had everyone, reminded them about traditional last night antics, gave them a safety lecture, then sent them off to check Padawans or the camp perimeter.

Qui-Gon schlepped through the mud toward the last row of tents. Although it was probably too early for any antics, he kept his Force awareness cranked up just in case. His assignment tonight was to check on Teams Six, Seven and Eight. He stopped at each tent and personally checked each Padawan to make sure each was really in his or her bedroll in some semblance of sleeping clothes. Very few of them were actually asleep when he went through but there was little he could do about that since Master Hathay did not believe in ‘inhibiting’ the Padawans. He grimaced as he thought about how much quieter the night could be with a little help from a few well-placed Force suggestions.

Finishing up with Team Six, Qui-Gon met Master Steng as he completed his checks for Team Five. Together they trekked through the mud back to the staff tent to make their report, then were released for the night. After double checking the security of their goods, by unspoken agreement they wore leggings to bed and their boots and light sabers (set on training level of course) were left handy.

Qui-Gon had set himself to sleep very lightly and a few hours later felt a soft niggling poking at his consciousness. Qui-Gon stirred, then lay quietly as he listened for the source of the disturbance. ~ Ah, there it is ~ he thought lazily, still half asleep, ~ my, but there are a lot of Padawans out and about. ~ He felt excitement flowing in the Force, excitement, challenge, nervousness, a few small spikes of triumph from the other end of the staffers section of camp. He smiled slightly; the omnipresent undercurrent of hunger was there as well. He sighed and reluctantly pushed his blanket back, shivering in the chilly air. Tradition must be served and it was their role to defend against the raiders. He was strongly tempted to just put his strongest Force shield around the tent and defy anyone to get in but he knew he would never hear the end of it from Yoda or his peers if he did. Pushing his feet into cold boots, he called softly to his tentmate.

“Master Steng, wake up. The Padawans are out.”

A low grunt came from the other cot, then a bald head reluctantly appeared. “hmmph, must be after second hour.” A rustling followed by low curses as Steng looked for boots and tunics in the dark.

Both men went silent as they felt several Force signatures coming closer. Qui-Gon knelt just inside the front entrance to the tent to await developments, casting out with a Force net to try to locate their adversaries, while Steng sat on his bunk still trying to put his last boot on, both men shielding heavily to mask their Force signature from detection. Evidently some adventurous Padawan had scouted out the interior of their tent in one of their absences because within a few moments they felt a Force tendril creep into the tent and head directly for the food box closest to the rear of the tent. The Masters were surprised when the tendril wrapped itself not around the box but rather around the chain. There was a sudden cry of “Heave!” as several Padawans must have joined together and the chain snapped taut, then jerked hard. Unfortunately for Master Steng, it was the end of the chain that was wrapped around his cot frame and he suddenly found himself unceremoniously dumped when the cot was upended. As soon as he regained his bearings, the short Master started scrambling toward the back of his tent on his hands and knees as he furiously gestured for his companion to go out the front.

Qui-Gon had been concentrating on finding the Padawans; he had a good idea of the locations of eight beings behind the tent but was puzzled by some very vague readings in the clearing in front of the tent. He had just turned his attention to deciphering this puzzle when Steng was upended. At Steng’s signal Qui-Gon charged out the front of the tent, intending to circle around and attack from the side. His attention was immediately diverted by two things, however. He found that a large patch of ground outside the front of the tent had been smoothed down and a small veneer of Force applied to the surface so it was now as slick as ice. At about the same time he also felt a rope snap across his lower chest and the tall Master suddenly found his feet flying out from under him, landing on his butt in the soft mud with a splashing WHOOMPH! Very soft, very wet, very cold mud.

As the wet mud soaked the seat of his pants, Qui-Gon also discovered that it was still raining. The cold drops pelted down as he heaved himself up. He caught sight of two Padawans disappearing around the side of a tent halfway down the row but reminded himself that his objective was to protect his own territory, not chase diversions. He heard bellowing and crashing from inside the tent and stuck his head back in just long enough to see Steng apparently engaged in a tug of war with the chain. Since Steng appeared to be holding up his end of the battle, Qui-Gon pulled back out. He carefully made his way through the mud slick, then headed for the corner of the tent.

Qui-Gon paused before heedlessly charging around the tent. ~ No, that’s probably what they’re expecting, ~ he thought. He smiled craftily, checked for the Force signatures behind the tent, then changed course. As he headed down a few tents, he caught puzzling traces of other Force signatures paralleling his course but did not want to take the time to investigate further. At the fourth tent down he paused, looked carefully around the corner, and prepared to go around to the back side. His attention was diverted by a sudden banshee shriek behind him and a cold wet splootch of mud hitting him squarely in the middle of the back. Qui-Gon turned around in time to be overwhelmed by a horde of nearly naked Padawans.

Surprised by the sudden frontal assault, Qui-Gon went down under the mass of bodies. Four Padawans attacked his right hand and wrested away his light saber. He had enough presence of mind to notice that it was Obi-Wan who grabbed the weapon, winked at his Master, and immediately headed back toward his Master’s tent. Meanwhile Qui-Gon had his hands full with the writhing horde. Without clothes they were wet and slippery and Qui-Gon could not get a grip on any of them without hurting them. They seemed intent on merely holding in him place, although Qui-Gon’s tunic did get torn and one of them succeeded in putting wet mud down the front of the Master’s leggings. Qui-Gon had finally resorted to Force flinging them off when there was a loud shrill whistle and the whole group scrambled up and starting running away with shrieks of laughter. Qui-Gon got in some good mud flings of his own but had to break off when he heard Master Steng bellowing for help.

Running back toward his tent, he saw that the back half was shaking and wobbling precariously. He skidded to a halt, almost going to his knees in the mud slick, and lurched into the tent. He was greeted by the sight of Obi-Wan and Steng bashing away at each other with lightsabers but in the confined space neither was landing any serious blows. Evidently Obi-Wan had had a chance to slash the chains on the food boxes before Steng caught him because two more Padawans had crawled in the back of the tent and were sliding the food boxes out to their friends. As both disappeared out the back Obi-Wan gave one last whack at Master Steng, dropped the lightsaber and scooted out the back. Qui-Gon lunged forward in a vain attempt to catch the slippery boy but only succeeded in hitting the rear tent pole with his shoulder. As both Masters tried to stumble to their feet, there was one last tug on the chain still attached to the tent pole. Already loosened when Qui-Gon hit it, the rear pole snapped and the whole back half of the tent came crashing down. Qui-Gon got a gash above his eye and was driven to his knees by the impact. As he tried to crawl out the back, he was driven to the ground again by a flailing Master Steng and hit his head. Finally fighting his way free of the wet, heavy tent material, Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of a group of Padawans trotting away, food boxes held high, whoops of triumph ringing in the air.

By now, of course, quite an audience had gathered to take in the spectacle. Standing in the cold rain, covered in wet mud with a particularly cold and gritty glob down the front of his pants, blood and rainwater mixing to drip into his eyes and nursing a rapidly escalating headache as he stared miserably at the remains of his tent and listened to the amused chatter of the crowd, Qui-Gon was vividly reminded just how much he disliked teenagers, especially in large groups, and why he had schemed so hard to get out of these miserable trips.

Oh yes, Yoda was definitely going to hear about this when they got back to Coruscant, he promised himself grimly.

finis


End file.
